


See It Clearly

by pottersplser



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 13:02:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pottersplser/pseuds/pottersplser
Summary: Harry struggles with his sexuality upon meeting a handsome seventh-year student. As his friends begin to build relationships, he's faced with the reality of discovering who he really is, and if he's happy to be that person.I'll probably be updating this around every two days, so make sure to check back if you enjoy reading!
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. The Portkey

**Author's Note:**

> please ignore how much this sounds like a wattpad fic, i promise it’s just at the very beginning.
> 
> some events that appear in the canon Harry Potter books might not be mentioned much in this fic, just because I don't see them as very relevant to my plot.

“Fred! George! You two better be downstairs in the next two minutes before I turn your brooms to soot!” Mrs. Weasley’s shrill voice echoed against the walls, waking Harry Potter along with the normally rambunctious twins. Ironically, though, the red-headed brothers looked quite the opposite of exuberant when Harry glanced over to the opposite corner of the room, rubbing sleep from his own eyes.

“Morning, Harry,” said Fred, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling as he stood. George stood up not long after, shooting Harry a quick grin before dashing into the hall. With another hard blink, Harry felt conscious enough to climb out of bed and lightly tap the sleeping body next to him.

“Ron, everyone’s already downstairs.” Harry poked his friend’s shoulder several times before he finally began to stir with a tired snort.

“Bugger off,” Ron said, making an awkward attempt at pulling his sheets over the fiery hair he shared with the rest of his family.

“Fine, then. Your loss. Guess we’ll all go on and watch Krum play without you.” Harry stifled a laugh as he watched Ron’s eyes shoot open at the mention of his favorite Quidditch player.

“Alright, alright,” Ron said, slowly pulling on a pair of hand-me-down trousers.

When the two friends finally came downstairs for breakfast, they were met with the smiling faces that belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

“Hello, dears,” said Ron’s mother, who had only looked up from the stove for a brief moment to greet the boys. “Oh, Arthur, would you fetch them some plates? I’ve forgotten to finish setting the table.” Mr. Weasley nodded at his wife lovingly and twirled his wand, sending two full sets of silverware and dishes to the crowded table. Maybe it was just early in the morning, but sometimes Harry felt as though he would never get used to the magical world he lived in, where forks were sent harmlessly flying through the air and spoons landed perfectly in cereal bowls at the flick of a wrist. Harry was happy to notice that the rest of the people at the table looked just as tired as him. Their freckled noses were accompanied by eyes almost as red and puffy as the ginger messes on top of their heads. Harry’s friend, Hermione, looked almost as exhausted as she had last term, when the bright young witch decided to tackle three extra classes almost every day. Even Percy, the most extreme workaholic of the Weasleys looked so drowsy he might as well have been sleeping for days.

The twins were the first of the children to be shaken from their sleepy dazes, as they were being barked at by their mother. Most of the others were either too weary or too used to their mother’s badgering of the twins to even react. Fred and George were always stirring up some kind of trouble, no matter the occasion. It was all in good fun, casual pranks and jinxes on first year students at their school of magic, but Mrs. Weasley never passed up an opportunity to tell her sons off. The twins simply grinned at each other, ignoring the still shouting mother beside them.

“Fine, then. I don’t have time for this rubbish. You lot have got to be off, now!” Everyone perked up a bit at this, recalling the exciting event they were to attend that day.

“Oh, right! Ready, kids?” Arthur chirped. Everyone at the table stood, bustling about the Weasley home, gathering their things. Percy was the only one left at the table, and no one seemed to notice when he muttered something about work for the Ministry before stomping upstairs.

“Bye, mum!” Called Ginny, who was followed out the door by her siblings and friends, their faces now bright with enthusiasm. The kids and Arthur rang out a short chorus of farewells to Mrs. Weasley, and excitedly scurried past the garden gnomes at their feet.

As the party made their way through the winding trees, suspense began to build. _How are we supposed to get to this match without being seen by muggles?_ Harry thought to himself.

As though he read the boy’s mind, Mr. Weasley shouted, “Not too far from the portkey, now!” He grinned wildly over his shoulder at his children. “Come on, Ron! We’re all tired.” Harry turned to Ron and laughed as he watched his friend hunch over and heave a great sigh. His back unfolded once more, though, as a loud crackling noise filled the air.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron half questioned, half shrieked. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please Ron. You’ve lived with wizards your whole life.” She tossed her hair out of her face and placed a hand on her hip. “You should be used to people apparating around you.” She quickly turned her attention away from Ron, and Harry thought he noticed a bit of pink creep across her cheeks. He followed her gaze to a middle-aged man wearing a poorly configured set of layered shirts. He looked as if he’d been caught in a tornado of women’s blouses and overcoats. Finally, Harry noticed the man had been staring right back at him.

“I don’t believe my eyes…” he said curiously, creeping toward the cluster of teenagers. “You aren’t… Harry Potter?”

“Er… pleasure to meet you,” said Harry, reluctantly stretching out his hand. The man’s eyes lit up, but Arthur interjected before Harry was bombarded with questions about his fame.

“This is Amos Diggory, kids.” Mr. Weasley clapped his hand on the shoulder of the much shorter man. “Oh, I almost forgot! This is his son, Cedric.”

Now Harry understood what Hermione was blushing at.

He could tell Cedric didn’t get his height from his father’s side of the family, for he was easily two heads taller than him. He flashed a perfectly straight smile and shook hands with Ginny and Hermione, who had broken into violent fits of giggles. The boy at last turned to Harry.

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” he said, smiling again. “How have you been?” Harry was surprised to find himself at a loss for words.

“Well, and you?” He cringed at the awkward formality of his reply. Why was he suddenly feeling so tense? He sighed in relief at the sound of Cedric’s light chuckle.

“I’m great.” The two began walking alongside each other in the midst of the rest of the group. “This is my first time. It’s yours too, isn’t it?” Harry quickly found himself coughing back his own saliva.

“Sorry?” He muttered, taken aback.

Cedric roared with laughter once more. “Sorry, that was worded horribly.” The handsome boy smacked himself in the forehead, flicking his voluminous hair backward. “I meant to ask if it’s your first time attending the big match!”

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, pressing his own palm to his forehead. “Yeah, I’m thrilled.”

“Me too. You lot are supporting Ireland, then? I know we are.” Cedric winked, and Harry suddenly felt the heat of the rising summer sun creep up the back of his neck.

“Of course.” He rolled his eyes sarcastically, smiling back at Cedric. The older boy appeared to be done talking for the time being, to Harry’s disappointment. This despondency abruptly grew into annoyance as he felt himself being pulled toward the edge of their small crowd. When Hermione finally released him, he croaked an irritated “What?!”

“You’re friendly this morning.” She glared at him. “You seemed to be having a lovely conversation with the pretty boy.”

“I never said he was pretty!” Harry retorted, almost too quickly. Hermione’s eyes widened before she replied.

“I never said you did!” Her hands floated up toward her head in a position of surrender. “He is pretty, though, at least in my opinion.” Her cheeks flushed just as they had upon first sight of the boy.

“I guess I can admit that…” Harry averted his gaze, sensing a smug look paint itself across his friend’s face. He found himself glancing at Cedric again. He really was attractive, but boys were allowed to think other boys were cute, weren’t they?

“Of course you can admit it.” Hermione grinned. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not like it _means_ anything.” Her smirk infuriated Harry.

“I don’t _think_ it means anything.” He turned his head to see Cedric bend down to pluck a flower from the grass below, and his stomach flipped. _Wow, I’ve never been this excited about Quidditch in my whole life_ , he thought to himself with a quick shake of his head.

“I’m only joking, Harry.” Hermione lightly poked his rib with her elbow, and his stomach returned to its resting position. He smiled back weakly, trying to keep his eyes glued to the forest floor instead of Cedric.

Harry’s internal prayers for a distraction were answered within minutes of his strangely guilty exchange with Hermione. “We’re here!” Arthur exclaimed, pointing through a clearing in the trees. As Harry approached the final trees in the forest, beams of golden light bounced up and down a steep, grassy hill. With a sudden burst of energy, the pack of Weasleys began prancing up to the top, followed by their four friends. Upon reaching their destination after a tiring climb, Harry grew puzzled.

“What are we supposed to be looking at?” He whispered to Hermione, spinning in every direction. She chortled at his confusion and pointed toward the ground.

An old boot sat at the top of the hill, basking in the sun as if on a beautiful beach vacation. It took him another minute or so for Harry to process the purpose of the ragged object. It was going to magically transport them to their final destination.

“Grab on, everyone!” Mr. Weasley said, hooking his finger over the top of the dirty shoe. His insides fluttering with nerves and excitement, Harry was the last to place his hand on the boot. His fingers touched Cedric’s for a brief moment, and the feeling in his abdomen intensified. With a sudden jerk, they were spinning through the sky. In a whirlwind of bright light and colors, Harry was bewildered to hear Amos and Arthur instructing the kids to let go of the portkey.

“You can’t be serious!” Harry shouted, panicked. It appeared he had no choice, though, as Hermione looped her little finger around the neck of his shirt, pulling him away from the others and letting him fall through the air.

The friends landed with a crash upon a new patch of grass, and finally laughed as the sounds of bright music and chatter filled their ears. Harry was too shocked to move at this point, once again amazed by the magical world of wizardry. He looked up to meet Cedric’s shining eyes, and took his offered hand. “You alright?” Cedric said through beautifully white teeth.

“Yeah, thanks!” Harry said, matching the enthusiasm in Ginny’s voice when the boy had clasped her hand earlier that morning. _Oh no._

“Hermione,” Harry said, taking his turn at ripping his friend to the side of the group. He hesitated for a moment, then said, “So maybe it _does_ mean something.”


	2. The Match

Hermione wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her excitement. Naturally, this got on Harry’s nerves, but he supposed he was happy to have supportive friends. “So,” she began. “I was right?”

“At least _act_ like you’re surprised,” Harry complained, wishing Hermione would stop laughing. “You look like a fool, control yourself!” This choice of words only caused the sounds of her contentment to grow louder.

“This Cedric character appears to be having quite the impression on you,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “You sound like Mrs. Weasley.”

“Godric, I really am talking like a mother.” Harry tried to laugh at this, but the subject of parents wasn’t exactly a happy thing for him to think about. In a more solemn tone, he asked Hermione, “Do you think we could… not talk about this right now? I’ve got enough to think about, being the Chosen One and all.” His feeble attempt at a joke did not miss Hermione, but she matched his seriousness in her reply.

“Of course, Harry.” They smiled at each other weakly, then looked out at the wonderful sight before them.

“Wow.” Harry heard Ginny say from behind him. He met her eyes, green and glittering with anticipation. _Ginny’s got quite pretty eyes_ , he thought. _They’re much prettier than Cedric’s…_ He knew he was lying to himself, but he didn’t care enough to be introspective when he was surrounded by flying broomsticks and magnificent sleeping tents. Ron sprinted over to Harry from behind and gripped his arm with the force of an overly-affectionate distant relative.

“Harry,” he panted. “Isn’t it just… fantastic?” Ron broke into a grin, and Harry couldn’t help but smile back. The campsite really was just that, fantastic.

Dancing between the sparkling robes of witches and wizards, Arthur Weasley led the group toward their tent. Fred and George stood proudly just behind their father, winking at the young women that attended Hogwarts with them. The ladies appeared to have their attention on Cedric, though, and Harry thought he saw Fred throw the heartthrob a nasty look. Cedric seemed unfazed, as he had just met eyes with Cho Chang, a beautiful girl just a year older than Harry.

“Remember her?” Ron smirked at Harry, jutting his thumb out at Cho. “We only barely beat her in Quidditch last year, thanks to your nonstop goggling.” Harry forced a grin. Cho really was quite pretty, but for some reason he could only focus on Cedric. He pried his gaze away and fixed his eyes on the girl instead. She turned to him and waved kindly, but he ignored her. _What is wrong with me?_ He reprimanded himself. He sighed inwardly and made to return the greeting. _Better late than never_. It appeared, though, that she had already been whisked away by Cedric. Envy swelled in his chest, but was promptly flattened by the announcement of their arrival at the tent. Mr. Weasley parted the curtains, and Harry gaped at the hidden size of the interior.

“I love magic.”

“Alright, alright! Are we all ready? It’ll be time to go soon!” Mr. Weasley excitedly checked up on everyone and their progress unpacking. Harry had just begun adjusting the sheets on the fold-out bed when screams of joy erupted from outside the tent. “Thats our queue!” Arthur shouted. With that, the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione came bustling out into the daylight.

Surrounded by the buzz of the growing crowd, Harry and his friends rose to the highest level of the stadium. Ron’s head swiveled every which way, trying to take in all the lights and faces like an excitable puppy. Harry laughed at the contrast between him and Hermione, who looked as if she might be sick when she carefully peered over the railing at their increasing altitude. Finally, the group plopped themselves down in the top box, now able to fully take in the view. Harry craned his neck uncomfortably, but the awkward position was worth it. The sky’s bright blue hue had already begun to deepen to pale indigo, tiny flecks of light blinking down at the crowd. After what seemed like hours of staring at the ever-changing sky, Harry heard the Minister of Magic’s shaky voice echoing through the night, announcing the commencement of the Quidditch World Cup. His adrenaline high and coursing through his veins, Harry’s athletic instincts caught sight of the golden snitch as it flew away from the Minister’s wand. With much cheering and booing alike, the howls across the stadium gradually evolved into roars when at last Viktor Krum tore through the sky, clutching the snitch in his hand triumphantly.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron said as they filed out of the top box. “Krum is amazing.”

“Looks like someone’s got a crush!” Fred joked, flattening Ron’s hair over his eyes playfully. The older brother’s voice transitioned into a mocking tone. “ _Oh, Viktor. I love you! Can you carry me like you carried the entire Bulgarian team on your—_ ”

“Bugger of, Freddie! He doesn’t even realize what you’re saying, he’s so blinded by lust!” George started, pretending to faint.

“Will you two stop!” Ron finally spoke up. “He’s the perfect athlete, gliding amongst the stars with the wind on his back, leading his team to victory.” At this point, it was hard to tell if Ron had joined in on the joke. Either way, though, the twins and Harry were now doubled over, clutching their stomachs at Ron’s dreamy expression. 

It wasn’t long before the party reached the tent again, gathering around the small fire, recounting the wonderful events of the match. “Seriously, though, guys! I know Krum was pretty much the only good player for Bulgaria, but isn’t that was makes him all the more talented?” Ron explained passionately.

“We’re still on this subject?” Ginny laughed, crossing her legs on the floor beside Fred.

“We have been for thirty minutes,” Harry sighed. He shielded his face from Ron and rolled his eyes dramatically in Ginny’s direction. She laughed and turned back to Ron politely.

“Ron, a monkey could fly better than the rest of his team. He wasn’t all that impressive,” George stated plainly, as if reading from a textbook. The rest of the circle bit their tongues as Ron’s ears colored themselves a deep crimson.

“You lot have no respect, or appreciation for skill,” he huffed. Laughter broke out, and Harry could have sworn he saw Ron trying to hide his own smile from the group. Ginny had proposed a game of exploding snap, and the friends engaged in the popping card game until Mr. Weasley approached them at almost midnight.

“How are you guys not exhausted?” He croaked over a puff of smoke that emerged from Ginny’s hands. “Come on, let's get ready for—” He was cut off by loud screams of terror just outside their tent. He carefully hurried to the curtains and poked his head through. His face had gone pale when he turned to face his children. “We have to go. Now.” His peppy demeanor had faded, and the group took this as a very bad sign. They quickly gathered their things, scrambling about, deciding whether or not certain items were even important to be worrying about in the panic. At last, the group hastened to the campground out side. Almost immediately, fear filled Harry’s stomach. Men and women were being tossed around in the air, their children wailing below them. Cloaked and hooded figures stood menacingly, tracing their wands through the air as they tormented the other witches and wizards. At once Harry knew who they were. Death Eaters, the servants and followers of the dark wizard who had tried to kill Harry thirteen years ago.

“Harry, we’ve got to go! What are you standing there for?” Hermione tugged on his sleeve, desperate to flee the scene. He snapped out of his dark thoughts and allowed her to lead him beyond the tents, trailing behind Ron, Ginny, and the twins. “We need to get to the portkey, now.”

Two people collided with them, one tall and one small. “Are you guys alright?” Cedric’s voice cut through the confused mutters from George and Fred.

“Yes, we’re on our way to the portkey,” Arthur said from the back of the pack, just returning from a heated conversation with another Ministry official. “Follow us, Amos.” The Diggory pair obeyed, keeping their eyes peeled for any immediate threats to their party. Apparently, they weren’t doing a very good job, as Harry was pulled back from the crowd by a calloused hand. One of the Death Eaters had seized him, and he fell to the ground, his back aching against the stony earth. He heard a shriek from Hermione before he felt a heavy foot stomp on his face, and everything went dark.

“Harry?” Ginny said lightly. He opened his eyes, his vision spotty under his broken glasses. Green light was cast over her face, as well as the rest of the Weasleys who were bent over his barely conscious body. “Dad was able to hex that guy before he hurt you too badly, but how are you feeling?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. What were Death Eaters doing at the World Cup? Where had they gone? Was anyone else hurt? He looked around, hoping for some answers. Almost everyone had already left the campgrounds, it was only the Weasleys and some straggling Ministry officials roaming the crime scene. Tents had been ripped to shreds, belongings strewn about on the dirt. “Where did they go?” Hermione looked almost sympathetic before she answered.

“They apparated out of here as soon as Mr. Crouch and Fudge showed up.” Harry was furious. How could the Ministry keep letting evil people slip through their fingers time and time again? Hermione seemed to see anger flash in his eyes, so she placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Harry.” Her voice was gentle, but he could tell she was sick of the weakness within the Ministry as well.

“We really ought to go, it looks like Bagman is on his way to bombard us with questions again,” said Arthur, pulling his kids off the ground. They started off toward the dip in the ground where the portkey lived, glancing sideways at the sky every few steps. Harry finally noticed, and turned his own head toward the stars. Just beside the moon sat the neon glow of a giant skull, a serpent sneaking out of its open mouth threateningly. The scar on Harry’s forehead burned all the way back to the hill, and only subsided when he landed flat on his back just feet away from the Weasley Burrow, with the battered boot inches away from his fingertips.


End file.
